Diamond in the Rough
by Danzinora Switch
Summary: The Enterprise is called away to Lucy, a brilliant jewel of a planet. But while completing their mission in the hazardous environment, something else lurks in orbit about them...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so my abstinence from fanfiction lasted a grand total of THREE days! I was back writing on Sunday, and now that I'm done with the first chapter of this impromptu story I'm posting it. Man, I seriously cannot take a break from writing.**

**Anyway, here we go with the latest adventure! Enjoy!**

* * *

_He motioned for the first mate to come closer. At his side, the man peered down at the display. His eyes widened. "Is that real?" he gasped._

_ He nodded sagely. "It is."_

_ The first mate pointed. "But, but the sheer _size _of that!"_

_ "Is accurate," he replied smoothly. _

_ "But that means that the entire planet is… well, it's the greatest single piece of treasure in the galaxy!"_

_ "Agreed," he purred. "But also note its coordinates; it's knee-deep in Federation space. And they've been making use of it for decades."_

_ The first mate recovered from his surprise. "What is it we are to do?" he asked tactfully, greed lining his face._

_ He could sympathize. They were all bored of freight runs. But this; this would provide a challenge. And though the challenge was undeniably risky, the reward was so vast that only a fool would turn down the mission._

_ He did not lead fools._

_ "Pay attention," he said. "Here's how this will happen."_

* * *

"I can't stress the importance of this, Kirk," Commander Watkins told him. Kirk sat on the other side of the desk in the Starbase commander's office. He had his arms crossed, and listened carefully. "If one goes, then it puts all the others at risk because of the faulty wiring. And we can't risk that. Those drones provide the necessary amounts of diamond needed for half the Federation!"

"I'm well aware of that, Commander," Kirk said. "My chief engineer is the best in the Fleet; if he can't fix the problem then no one can."

Watkins marginally relaxed. "I have faith in you and your crew's abilities, Captain. Surely, though, fixing a broken drone is one of the, shall we say, less exciting duties of a starship."

Kirk inclined his head. "Perhaps in other settings. However, this particular environment should serve to keep us on our toes."

Watkins nodded. "Indeed." He pressed a few keys on the computer. "A replacement set is due to be ready and deployed at the end of the year. As it stands now, these drones are 30-45 years old. I'm not all that surprised that here, near the end, we're having a few start to go out on us. Still, we need them in as best a condition as possible. We have so few, and they reap so much. A damaged drone reduces our supply markedly."

"We'll find the malfunction and fix it," Kirk reassured him for the umpteenth time. He rose. "And the sooner we can do that the better."

"Certainly, certainly Captain." Watkins also stood. "My base is equipping your Engineering staff with everything they'll need for shielding; Lucy's neighbor has a tendency to mess with beaming, and though your shuttles are durable, they aren't especially designed to handle the conditions."

"Thank you," Kirk said. "If that is all, Commander, I must return to my ship."

"Of course," Watkins said. He stepped back, leaving plenty of room for the transporter beam.

"_Enterprise,_ one to beam up," Kirk said into his communicator. An instant later he materialized away.

That had been 7 hours ago. Now, they were rapidly approaching the nearest star to the starbase. As they got closer to their destination, the light increased tenfold. Kirk ordered the screen to reduce the visual's picture to a darker exposure. Blinking away afterimages, the crew was grateful for the dimming light.

"Analysis, Spock," Kirk called automatically.

"PSR J1719," Spock replied seamlessly from his scanner. "A millisecond pulsar approximately twelve miles in diameter. Spin period of 5.8ms; we are deep in the constellation Serpens, roughly 4000 light years from Earth. Originally part of a binary system."

"And the planet?"

"PSR J1719-B; the former other half of the binary system. Originally a white dwarf; it is orbiting the pulsar every 2 hours, 10 minutes, and 37 seconds. The pulsar has stripped away 99.9% of its matter leaving only the core. Highly dense, it is composed mainly of oxygen and crystallized carbon."

"Diamond," Kirk clarified.

"Indeed."

Kirk watched as they drew nearer to the tiny system. He got up from his chair and crossed to the rail by the science station. "The whole planet is one big diamond," he mused, leaning on the support structure.

"It has singlehandedly been supplying 48% of the Federation's diamond needs for the last 50 years," Spock commented from his seat.

Kirk nodded. "Any why not? There's plenty of it." He kept watching the screen. "You know why they call this planet Lucy?" he asked suddenly. He didn't wait for a reply. "It was after an old Earth song from the… 1960's, I believe. 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds'."

"The star BPM 37093 was named 'Lucy' in honor of that song," Spock stated.

"Yes, well this is the _planet_ Lucy, Mr. Spock, not the star. The planet wasn't officially named Lucy until the early 22nd century. Up until then, it was just referred to as 'the Diamond Planet'."

"Entering orbit around the pulsar, Captain," Sulu called from the helm.

Kirk nodded in acknowledgement. Because Lucy orbited so close to her star, they couldn't safely orbit the planet without getting fried. According to Spock, the entire system could fit inside Earth's own sun. So they slid into a wide orbit around the bright pulsar.

"Mr. Spock," he said. "You have the conn. I'm going to check on Mr. Scott's progress with the shuttles."

"Acknowledged, Captain." Spock didn't move for the big chair as he was still taking readings of the pulsar and planet. Kirk left the bridge.

"Hangar deck," he said to the turbolift. It started humming as it descended to the appropriate level. Once out, Kirk briskly strode into the shuttle bay.

Normally empty, the hangar was bristling with red-shirted engineers and parts of equipment. Kirk picked his way across the floor. Huge clumps of machinery littered the deck. Some were getting worked on by engineers, others seemed to have been simply discarded. He stopped as a group lugging massive shield plating ran across in front of him. He wasn't bothered, however. It looked heavy and Kirk had no intention of slowing down the work.

"Lieutenant," he caught the arm of one passing redshirt. "Do you know where Mr. Scott is?"

He pointed. "Somewhere up in there, Captain. Good luck trying to pull him out."

"Thank you," Kirk said, releasing him. The lieutenant hurried away.

Kirk strode to the center of attention: the shuttle _Galileo_. It hardly looked like the same one that had replaced the doomed one from Taurus II. The standard Starfleet shuttle was being almost completely retrofitted. Thick plating lined its hull. Both pylons had been replaced with upgraded thrusters. The maneuvering system had been provided with extra details and fine-tuning. Sensors were also a priority. The focused beams were provided with several dozen filters to see through intense light on all wavelengths, as well as radiation and heat. Even though the upgrades were still underway, it already looked twice as big as the other shuttles.

Scotty was crammed halfway inside the _Galileo's_ belly. Kirk could only identify him through the string of muttered Gaelic curses drifting out from below. He poked a boot, about the only part of the man outside the shuttle.

"Report, Scotty?"

"It's a'comin', Cap'n!" Scotty called from his position. "It's just gonna take some time t'get everythin' in place; I only had a few hours y'know-"

"Understood, Scotty, you have the time you need. We're in orbit around Lucy and her star now, but you won't have to leave until everything's done to your satisfaction."

Of course, Kirk also knew that if he really gave Scotty the _Galileo_ to refit to his satisfaction, they would never leave.

"Thank ye, Cap'n. Bu' it's a lot of work to be done. We've just got the shielding t'handle the radiation in place-"

Kirk's eyes bugged. "All this is _just_ for the radiation?"

"Aye." Scotty wriggled deeper inside and his boot disappeared. "We've also got t'worry about the electromagnetic fields, the heat, tho' that's already covered, as well as speed an' stabilizing t'fly through the planet t'find the right drone- an' wi' that tight orbit it's gonna be a close an' nasty place t'fly- gravity fluctuations are gonna give 'er a bumpy time so we've got t'compensate for _that-_"

"I get the picture, Scotty," Kirk said, trying to stave off the long list of problems Scotty was feeding him. "That's why I'm telling to take the time you need. There are a lot of dangerous factors to worry about, and a tiny slip up could kill the shuttle."

"Not _this_ shuttle, sair," drifted Scotty's voice. Kirk peered down to try and glimpse how far someone could even fit inside a shuttle like that. "Not when I'm through with 'er."

"I have full confidence in your abilities, Scotty," Kirk told the shuttle. "Estimated time until completion?"

"I cannae even _begin_ t'tell ye how long until we're done! We've still got t'load and refit all the equipment needed to _fix_ th'drone t'go onto the shuttle _plus_ all the necessary outfittin' t'the shuttle itself-!"

"Scotty," Kirk stopped him with a warning tone.

There were some foreign mutters. "In another five hours I should be able t'give ye a pretty fair end time."

It wasn't exactly the answer Kirk was hoping for, but he took it anyway. He could see just how hard everyone was working. "Very well, Mr. Scott, I'll check back in on your progress in five hours."

His only reply was a high-pitched sawing sound from inside the shuttle.

Kirk turned and carefully crossed the shuttle bay to the corridor. When the doors slid shut behind him, he was mildly surprised at the silence. Until now, he hadn't realized just how noisy the project had been.

Kirk strode back up to the bridge. He considered stopping by a few other places on the ship, but wanted to see how the orbit was going. It was tricking navigating a former binary system.

The turbolift doors opened and he stopped to see Uhura digging under her console. "Lieutenant?" he questioned.

"Here, sir," she said, scooting back out. "An engineer came up a little while ago and gave me a… well, I'm not sure what it was. But he described the device as a signal booster specially designed to cut through PSR's spectrum; most of the interference should be gone whenever we'll contact the landing party."

Kirk nodded. "Good," he motioned for Uhura to return to her work and crossed to his seat. "What are you doing here, Bones?"

The doctor looked at him. "Would I miss the chance to see the largest diamond we know? Sure is pretty."

"Yes, isn't it?" Kirk said, glancing at the screen. "Then it may interest you to know that you have the opportunity to see it a lot closer. I want you on the landing party."

"Me? Why? I'm not an engineer, I can't fix a drone."

"No, but everyone will be that much closer to the pulsar. I need you to keep an eye on everyone and monitor the effects. If people are getting nauseous, dizzy, uncoordinated… whatever effects come from being close to massive pulsar, even with shielding."

McCoy scowled. "And who better to send into hazardous territory than a doctor?"

Kirk shrugged.

"Captain," Spock spoke, standing by his station. "What are your plans for the landing party?"

"Well, I'm thinking on Bones, myself, Sulu, Scotty, and anyone else Scotty needs with him."

"Request permission to accompany the landing party."

Kirk frowned slightly. "Spock, that shuttle's going to be packed with equipment; there's not a lot of room for a lot of people-"

"Captain," Spock broke in carefully. "Perhaps I should clarify. I respectfully ask to go aboard in your stead."

Kirk blinked, mildly surprised. Before he could say anything, McCoy spoke up.

"He's right, Jim. We're going to need to squeeze in as many necessary personnel as we can if we're going to fix this drone in one shot. There's really no reason for you to be there, Captain."

Kirk swiveled in his chair. "And Spock…?"

"Captain, I have thoroughly researched the drone models. I am familiar with their computer mechanisms and hardware designs. I am capable of assisting Mr. Scott in repairing a number of machinery. Also, as science officer, if I am not currently needed with any repairs I can take close readings of the planet. I am also capable of copiloting with Mr. Sulu."

"I see…" Kirk trailed.

"You'd do a lot more good out here, Jim," McCoy commented. "Keeping the ship in good, safe condition. Fixing drones isn't exactly your area of expertise."

"Nor yours, Doctor."

"Well, _excuse_ me, but if I recall correctly, which I do, I didn't volunteer for this."

Kirk exhaled heavily. "Fine. You've both made excellent points. Mr. Spock, you will head the landing party."

"Thank you, Captain," Spock said. He returned to his scanner.

Kirk drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Bones," he said after a moment. "Are we safe from the pulsar's radiation and other activities from here?"

McCoy glanced at the screen. "Well, with our shields and distance we should be pretty good. Of course, I wouldn't recommend sticking around for a couple months."

"Noted." Kirk sighed. "We've got some time to kill while Scotty finishes outfitting everything. You can relax for a few hours until the shuttle's ready."

"Riiight," McCoy said dryly. "I've now got to go and prep a medkit for a hazardous landing party. Not to mention upgrade all the bio-suits; make sure they're up to par in case the drone itself isn't. And about a dozen other things." He sighed and headed for the turbolift. "See you in a bit, Jim."

"Of course, Doctor," Kirk said. He swiveled back around to gaze as the glowing solar system.

* * *

_"What do you mean we can't go back!" he exploded._

_ The first mate flinched. "We risk much-"_

_ "We're already risking much!" He furiously paced the bridge. "How long until the crew is back on their feet?"_

_ "Not long. Some are already waking up."_

_ "Good. If that's not what's stopping us, then what is it?"_

_ The first mate cleared his throat. "Another ship has entered, on the opposite side of the solar system."_

_ He frowned, and brought up a tactical viewing screen. "Identification?" he ordered._

_ "Yes, sir," the first mate said. "It registers as the U.S.S. _Enterprise_."_

_ He stopped cold, rooted to the spot. That name. He knew that name. He'd have to have been born yesterday to not know its significance. He knew very well what she, and her captain, were capable of._

_ But fear was for the cowardly. He was undaunted. Slowly, his lips stretched into a hideous smile. "Perfect," he purred._

* * *

**Okay, here's the big news: PSR J1719-B is a REAL planet. Yes, Lucy truly does exist. All my facts about it come from Wikipedia and AllTime10's video on alien planets found on YouTube. Currently called 'The Diamond Planet', I had earlier mistaken the star that Spock mentions as Lucy the planet, but I still made it fit in the story by stating a future name change. Yes, the star BPM 37093 is called 'Lucy' now in honor of 'Lucy in the Sky of Diamonds', but again, I'm tying the name to this planet because I like it and it fits. You can learn more about all of these if you want.**

**Anyways, after those fun facts, please review! I debated whether or not to actually write this, so was it worth reading so far? Feedback appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey, guys! I want to thank you for the awesome reviews, y'all. I'd had a bad day and when I read them the positive support just warmed my heart. So thank you, thank you SO much! :) Glad to have you onboard! Sorry that it's been a while posting; the Olympics have had me distracted. I'll be writing, look up at the TV, and see ice skating. That's always hypnotic, and suddenly time disappears. I've been going slow with this, but chapter 2 is now UP. So please enjoy!**

* * *

They waited until the next 'day' before setting out in the amped-up _Galileo_. This was because all of the repairs and tweaking didn't finish until the late evening, and it was best if the landing party was rested before venturing out.

"Good Lord," McCoy exclaimed, halting in the shuttle bay. Sulu just about bumped into him. "That thing's a tank!"

"She's no' armored," Scotty called, slightly indignant, from the shuttle. "She's got absolutely no weapons on 'er."

"I doubt there's even in room for them," Sulu mused, eyes tracking the shuttle.

_Galileo_ was now absolutely massive and bulky. The shielding covered every square inch of the vehicle and the thrusters made the original pylons look like toothpicks. It was a dull, grey, metal blob with the occasional screened sensor poking out from behind its multiple lenses.

The inside was also jam-packed. The back storage hold was crammed with all sorts of equipment probably needed to fix the drone, and it spilled out into the main area. Bio-suits were up near the front in to minimize the odds of anything pointy ripping one open. Tools and machinery littered the floor as McCoy and Sulu picked their way to their seats. Sulu took the pilot's chair while the doctor claimed the first available seat that wasn't cluttered.

Spock entered a couple minutes later, taking his seat as copilot. Two lads from engineering entered later, and Scotty brought up the rear after making absolutely certain everything was in place. With the party of six in place (one chair housed a massive drilling machine) Sulu and Spock began the liftoff procedures.

"Shuttle _Galileo_ ready to disembark," Spock said into speaker. Sulu brought the craft to life and they could feel it slowly spinning on the landing pad.

"_Acknowledged_," came Kirk's voice from the bridge. "_Cleared for takeoff. Good luck._"

The hangar depressurized, the bay doors opened, and the shuttle took off.

Sulu eased it further into the solar system. He didn't listen to the idle conversations behind him; he was focused on the upcoming turbulence. The _Enterprise_ was a safe distance away, so this was the calm before the storm.

Spock switched on a sensor. "Tesla levels rising. Increasing radiation."

Underscoring his words was a deep vibration. The shuttle shuddered, but didn't waver from its course. Sulu pressed it on.

The light increased, even with the screen. They ended up just closing the _Galileo's_ viewports and sparing their retinas any damage.

The shuttle suddenly lurched to one side. Everyone rocked in their seats and one of the engineers- Mr. Quinn- tipped into the isle.

"Sorry," Sulu said, gritting his teeth. "Solar wind. We're fighting it."

The _Galileo_ bucked and suddenly dipped. The nosedive was steep, and everyone felt the headrush before the artificial gravity stabilized. Sulu leveled them out and flew under the intense particle emission.

The ride grew more harrowing. In a smooth zone, the trip would have taken half an hour. However, PSR's turbulent solar system lengthened it mightily.

Almost an hour of shaking, rattling, spinning, ducking and twisting later, their destination was in sight. "Approaching Lucy," Sulu reported from the readings. He took a deep breath. "Here we go."

Spock switched on every sensor. With the heavy shielding, they were essentially blind, and so needed every ounce of information they could get.

Also, they couldn't orbit Lucy. The planet rotated so fast, and spun around its pulsar so quickly, that it would be near impossible.

As it was now, they weren't actually approaching Lucy.

Lucy was approaching _them_.

"Contact in 3," Sulu counted, bracing himself. "2… 1…"

The shuttle snapped to the right.

Lucy's gravity essentially reached out and snatched them from the sky. Sulu fought to keep them steady as they raced along the curvature of the brilliant planet, pulling closer to its surface.

"Firing reverse thrusters!" Sulu called out. He hit the button and the _Galileo_ bucked, fighting against the gravitational forces. The thrusters served as a way to keep them from getting launched into space by Lucy. Now they would stick to the planet.

The only drawback was that they could now feel the immense gravity pulling them down.

The shuttle fell sharply down to Lucy and they experienced a brief sense of weightlessness. Their gravity kicked back in but still they fell, zipping closer and closer to the planet.

Sulu knew the drones mined the surface directly. Might as well save their energy and let gravity take them closer to their destination. He waited, counting the long seconds as the altimeter dropped.

Now.

Kicking off with forward thrusts, the _Galileo_ rushed forward, stopping their descent. Sulu grinned as he settled into an acceptable speed as they sailed across the planet. He glanced at Spock.

"So where's that drone?"

"The drone, serial number K-19, should be in this general vector," Spock reported. "While it reportedly went offline, we should be able to pick up static."

"How will we be able to tell the drone from all the other noise?" the other engineer, Mannheim, asked. By 'noise' he meant the EM spectrum and other interference causing their turbulent difficulties.

"We are able to distinguish between natural and artificial signals, Lieutenant," Spock replied smoothly. "Especially since all drones are fitted with a particular coding sequence."

"Aye," Scotty agreed. "It makes 'em identifiable, as well as keeps 'em protected."

"Glad to see everyone's okay," McCoy said dryly. "Though I'm still regretting that I didn't pack heart medication. Are we going to face the same bumpy ride when we leave, Sulu?"

"A little bit," he acknowledged. "But it shouldn't be as bad. We'll have PSR at our backs giving us a push."

"Lovely," he drawled.

"Mr. Sulu," Spock said. "There is a signal at 43 mark 8. Broken, filled with static, but there is a 94% chance that it is the drone we seek."

"Aye, aye," Sulu said. He adjusted the shuttle ever so slightly; even the smallest of course changes would send them shooting off miles in the right, or wrong, direction.

It seemed only mere seconds later that they were pulling up alongside the giant machine. Sensors pieced together a fuzzy picture of the behemoth that showed up on the screen (not the viewport's unfiltered view).

A giant beast of twisted metal loomed before them. It had a huge, swollen belly peeking out from around the pipes and cables, with a massive growth bulging out from its back. An elongated neck broke out of its main torso, extending with joints and coils. There wasn't anything resembling a head. If anything, the head was deliberately missing. The stump caved inward towards the neck to allow for docking. Engines and glowing coils covered the entire drone. Electricity crackled around some of the tightly wound machinery.

Sulu matched the speed of the drone and then surpassed it slightly. The illusion was that the drone was stable and they were approaching it. The reality was that both were zipping around the planet in geosynchronous orbit.

"Docking," Sulu reported. He maneuvered up the neck and swiveled to face the stump. There were three holds. Scotty rose up and crossed to Spock, and the two keyed in the opening sequence for the drone. With any luck, that wasn't broken.

A moment later, one of the double doors opened. They glided into the hold and settled down in the cramped space. The doors automatically sealed behind them.

"Pressurizing," Spock read from the shuttle's readings. "Atmosphere… optimum. The hold is secure."

"Now to worry about the rest of the drone," McCoy said. "Before we go in, how's everyone feeling? Any nausea, dizziness, headaches?"

The crew shook their heads. McCoy nodded curtly. "Good. Report to me, though, _immediately_ if you start feeling any of these. It could be a sign of radiation sickness, or other effects brought on by the strong EM."

"Will do," Quinn promised.

Spock continued to scan around, extending the sensors' range. "The drone beyond appears to be stable. Life support systems are switching on automatically and in acceptable ranges. We may not need the biosuits, Doctor."

"Good," McCoy said. "Though if you're working near the hull at all I'll recommend them. Can't have too much protection when it comes to this."

"Noted. Readings also report that in some areas gravity is either lessened, or gone completely. The central corridor, however, is completely stable."

"Good," Scotty said enthusiastically. "Can we get t'work then, Mr. Spock?"

"I believe that is what we came here for."

_Galileo's_ shuttle door opened, groaning in protest as it lifted the extra metal of shielding. Scotty patted it sympathetically before helping unload some equipment. Sulu also felt for the craft. It had been a tough flight. However, for the next few hours he could relax. His part of the mission was over until it was time to leave. He and McCoy were the only ones who weren't involved in the actual drone repairs themselves.

They did join Spock and the engineers as they opened the door into the corridor. A chance to look around and stretch their legs was always appreciated.

The corridor was the main part of the drone for humans. Computer banks lined the walls. Most of it was self-maintenance; the drones were out on their own for years and had to keep functional. Extensive monitoring systems filled the panels and ceiling. Other systems were responsible for reading extensive programs and replying; in other words, communicating with the starbase, recognizing hazards, reacting to sequences such as shuttle entrances and replying by turning on life-support, and controlling the distribution of the miners.

Scotty wandered all the way to the end of the corridor with Mannheim to check the miners. The miners were dozens of mini drilling machines housed in the drone's belly. Regularly they would be released to fly to Lucy's surface and bring back vast amounts of diamond. Then they would return, process the amounts, and pack the diamond into flyers, housed in the growth of the drone. The flyers later left the planet and turned in the diamond to the mega-processing center next to the starbase. Once released from their payload, they returned to the drone and repeated the process.

For some reason, the flyers from drone K-19 had not reported to the processing center.

A while later they returned to the main corridor. "They're all in place thair," Scotty reported. "The miners, too. It's as if they never deployed. Either somethin's wrong with the mechanism to deploy, or the programming. We'll have t'check out both."

Spock straightened. "Very well. We can divide the tasks into two men for each. I am willing to look into the programming. Mr. Scott?"

Scotty crossed his arms, thinking. "I kin check out the mechanics. I'll take Mannheim with me."

"Acknowledged. Mr. Quinn, you'll be with me. Doctor, Sulu, though your expertise is not required, you may assist if you wish. Otherwise, you may wait in the shuttle."

Sulu sighed, rolling his shoulders. "If it's alright, Mr. Spock, I may try to catch a quick nap and be ready for the next flight." The adrenaline and focus was fading fast, and he felt a little worn out from the intense journey.

McCoy noticed that, and catalogued it. "Scotty, if I could join you and Mannheim briefly to see where you'll be working I can better determine any risks presented," he explained.

"Of course, Doctor," Scotty said amiably as they walked back down the corridor. "It's not too close t'the hull, though there is a light gravity pocket on the way… an' this one crawlspace has zero G…" The trio wandered off to investigate the space while the other half returned to the shuttle, partly to gather equipment.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

On the _Enterprise_, Lt. Gordon stood at the science station. Normally Chekov would take over for Spock, however he was still needed at the navigator's console. PSR presented a vigilant orbit, and all changes and emissions had to be plotted in order to be avoided. Lt. Riley was filling in for Sulu.

And so Gordon remained dutifully at the science station, staring in the scanner and constantly scanning the area. Every now and then he would record the flyers lifting off from the drones at regular intervals, and returning a couple hours later. It followed a brilliantly executed, set pattern. They were the only predictable thing in this solar system.

He looked at the main screen. PSR still gleamed brightly. Occasionally they could glimpse Lucy passing in front of her star. Kirk remained silent in his chair, drumming his fingers. The man seemed fidgety. Likely it was due to the lack of communication from the landing party. They had listened in on _Galileo _for a bit until the interference became heavier. It had been silent for several hours, which was actually a good thing. The landing party had been instructed to call only if they were in trouble, or had another problem. So the silence indicated all was well.

Shaking his head at the captain's stubborn worry, Gordon looked back into the scanner. He frowned when he glimpsed a tiny blip vanish. Pulling up the memory, he studied it. The configuration wasn't one he recognized. It was extremely faint, either due to distance, or PSR, or both. But if he had a clearer image, he might have been tempted to call it a ship.

The computer told him that the image had shown up for only a second. It was fuzzy and undefined, and likely just a stray emission from PSR. He chewed his lip and glanced back at the screen. The only problem with that thought, though, was that the bulky object didn't resemble a particle emission or solar flare. He frowned and stared at it longer. Was it a ship? There really wasn't a way to tell for sure.

Realization hit him like a slap in the face. Of course. It had to be their reflection. A side-effect from the pulsar. He was probably looking at a ghost _Enterprise_.

Putting the computer image away, Gordon returned to scanning the system. He thought nothing more of the could-be ship.

* * *

**Is ignorance really bliss? Or is it better to know as much as you can about a situation? Because sometimes, what you don't know, CAN hurt you...**

**Reviews loved and appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi, guys! Sorry it's been a while between updates; I've been working on two videos plus school and then it snowed- actual SNOW here in NC! Several inches! The last time we got more than a dusting was three years ago. So yeah. But I have gotten this chapter written, even if it is shorter than the others. But I liked the stopping point a whole lot and so made it my ending. For now. **

**Anyways, thanks for the reviews, y'all! Here's the next installment!**

* * *

_He was not happy. He did not like this situation. His first mate knew this, which only made him nervous. He didn't like nervous men, but he liked calming them even less. He had to show some control, some sense in this._

_ "Prepare another raider," he said. "And this time, only send half of the crew aboard. I may need the others here if Kirk decides to make things personal."_

_ "Yes sir," his first mate said, saluting. He began to walk off the bridge but he caught his arm._

_ "Arm them," he instructed. "We may need bargaining power."_

_ The first mate caught his meaning instantly. Yet he hesitated. "That will force a confrontation, you realize."_

_ He shrugged. "It was bound to happen the moment they entered the system. This way, at least, we can do it on _my_ terms." He stared at the pulsar on the viewscreen for a moment, tapping his chair. "Go with them," he told the man. "I want you in charge of the operation over there. If Kirk contacts you, and he likely will, ignore it. When he stops sending the signal _then_ you may open communications. That is how you show control; by doing things on your own terms in your own time. Remember that, should you ever become Captain."_

_ "I shall," he nodded. "What are our objectives?"_

_ He swiveled to face him. "_Your_ objectives are to finish our work and make it clear to Kirk that you mean to abide by what you say- what you threaten specifically is up to you. Once you show him you have the upper hand, I will contact him and proceed from there." He licked his lips. "You and your team will be in charge of, shall we say, _safeguarding_ the negotiations."_

_ The man nodded. "I get the picture." He cracked his knuckles. "I'll prepare the others, then."_

_ He signaled for the first mate to leave. "Do what you must."_

* * *

Mannheim stood up, expecting to feel slightly woozy. Instead, he felt fine, and the sensation of pinpricks all over his body was gone. He turned to McCoy. "Hey, thanks, Doc; that really worked."

"Course it did," McCoy replied amiably. "I didn't get my degree for nothing. Just try to limit your time spent next to the hull."

Mannheim rolled his shoulders, stretching. He'd gotten to feeling queasy and hot while working with Mr. Scott, and so reported to McCoy. He got a hypo of something and sat out in the shuttle for short break. Now, he felt right as rain.

"Is Scotty holding up well?" the doctor asked him.

"Oh yeah," he answered. "He's actually working deeper in the center of the drone, where it's more protected. So far we haven't found anything. I asked Quinn on my way up here if he and Mr. Spock were having any luck but they're still carefully removing the shielding to reach the computer hardware. All those delicate components are vacuum-sealed tight, you know."

McCoy nodded. "Well, you're good to go," he reported. "But if you see Scotty's not looking so great send him to me or me to him. I know how hard it is to pry him away from his work."

Mannheim laughed. "Will do, Doctor. Thanks." He retreated from the hold into the corridor to walk down the long neck of the drone to its belly.

Sulu reclined on his chair. He stretched, blinking. "About how long have we been here?" he asked, shaking off post-nap grogginess.

McCoy checked his watch. "Not that long. A couple of hours. So far things have been running smoothly. He settled into a chair. "I should have brought something to do. How was your nap?"

"Fine," Sulu answered. "Though I had this one strange dream where Mr. Spock was asking me where I had hidden a piñata."

McCoy chuckled. "I can only imagine how logical it would be to ask that sort of question."

Sulu grinned. "Clearly he wanted to find it."

"And that, Mr. Sulu, leads us to the golden question: why _did_ he want to find it?"

They both grinned at the ridiculous image. "Pity it was just a dream," McCoy started to say.

"Do you hear that?" Sulu asked suddenly.

McCoy frowned and listened. "Hear what?"

"Sort of a… whirring sound."

McCoy listened again. "Sure it's not just more drone sounds?" He'd heard humming and engine noises the entire time.

"But it's new," Sulu said. "It wasn't there a few moments ago." He stood up and walked out of the shuttle. McCoy followed him. Out in the hold, the sound was a bit clearer.

"You're right, it _is_ new," McCoy commented, turning about. "Where do you suppose it's coming from?"

Sulu looked around. He pointed. "I think this way."

They walked to the corridor. Farther down the long neck, Spock and Quinn were working diligently. Only the sound wasn't coming from them. Instead of going straight, they turned left down a shorter access way. They ducked through low bulkheads and cramped walls and pressed on.

* * *

"That's the last one, Mr. Spock," Quinn reported, unscrewing the last bolt of the final piece of shielding. He put the drilling machine aside and gently removed the covering. Spock reached in and opened a panel, working with the wiring and readouts.

If they had wanted to simply access the computer, they could have without having to pry away layer after layer of airtight shields. However, they needed to check the _core_ programming, and it was much easier to go straight to the source. Spock brought up the framework for the entire drone and started scrolling through the codes. He furrowed his brow when he reached the miner/flyer deployment section.

Something wasn't right.

It did not look like a malfunction.

* * *

"Here," Sulu said, stopping. McCoy peered around his shoulder at the closed hatchway.

"Doesn't that lead to the other hold?" he asked.

"It _is_ the other hold." Sulu tapped his fingers on the door and hastily withdrew them. "Icy."

McCoy also touched it. "With the power turned off it's bound to be cold," he mentioned.

Sulu shook his head. "But it shouldn't instantly chill like that." He paused, a gnawing feeling growing in his gut. "It's open on the other end."

"How can it be open?"

"It's a vacuum of some sort," Sulu insisted. His hand hovered just over the door. "Have you also noticed that it stays shut even though we're right in front of it? Like on the _Enterprise_, shuttle hatchways seal when the bay doors open. That way nobody can walk in and get sucked out into space."

McCoy shuddered at the thought, but he also had the gnawing feeling. "The golden question now, Sulu," he said quietly. "Is why are the other hold's doors opening?"

But the answer was already in both their minds.

* * *

Spock dug deeper into the programming. As he did, the implications grew more… disconcerting.

The deployment of the miners had been deliberately stopped. However, there was a sequence set up right next to it that would start them again on their normal schedule. It blinked, waiting patiently to be activated. That was of little concern.

What was of concern were the flyers. From what Spock could tell, they had _not_ been deliberately stopped. Instead, it seemed they had been deliberately _altered_. Or at least, that someone had attempted to alter them. In the space where their destination coordinates for the processing center should have been was nothing. Like it had been erased. Now, with no coordinates to fly to, they remained in their places, waiting to be told where to deliver their diamond once production started up again.

"Mr. Quinn," Spock said at last. "I believe we have more than a mere 'malfunction' on our hands."

"How's that?" Quinn asked.

Spock motioned him closer. They both knelt on the floor and looked at the programming.

Quinn pointed. "Why is that blank?" he wondered.

"Since there are several safeguards for such a problem, one must conclude that it was deliberately changed," Spock replied. "Especially since it is the core programming itself that was modified." In the distance, his Vulcan ears picked up footsteps from down the corridor. Likely McCoy or Sulu.

"Check the plating," he instructed. "See if there are any scratch marks or other signs of forced entry that we missed." He reached in to start changing the codes back to their original states.

Quinn turned around to the splayed shielding behind them. But his eyes caught something down the hall and they widened. "What the-!?"

The phaser stun bowled him over onto his back. Spock whirled around from his crouched position and saw the muzzle of another phaser jabbed right in his face. "I wouldn't try it, Vulcan," a voice sneered.

A pair of hands hiked him up and he looked at the owner of the phaser. And found that he was staring at the ugly, green face of an Orion.

* * *

**Reviews save lives!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry that it's been a while, I recently had a personal revelation and then my mom and I took a break from life. Plus, this semester has been pretty tough! The workload alone! In short, it's been busy. As such, this chapter is also kind of short, but I really liked the stopping point and so I made it the ending for this part. I'm not entirely sure how this will resolve, but I've got a rough idea of it. I definitely need to work out some holes and nitpicks. Until then, enjoy the suspense! Thank you for reviewing, mtcbones and ThatSassyCaptain! I love reviews!**

* * *

Spock was marched down the corridor back to the main hold. Two Orions picked up Quinn and carried him. The main one looked back the way they had come and uttered some words to a few more pirates. "Find anyone else. Check the hangars." They nodded curtly and moved off.

In the hold, Spock saw McCoy and Sulu on their knees. An Orion was standing behind each of them; phaser ready. McCoy started to rise when he saw Quinn, but was pushed back down. He started to angrily protest the Orion, but a sharp look from Spock silenced him. _Now was not the time._

Spock was settled next to McCoy, in the same position. Quinn was dumped rather rudely on the ground beside him. He saw McCoy tense, but again shot the doctor a look. _Wait._

The head Orion paced in front of them, smirking. "Well," he drawled. "This was easier than I thought. I expected more from the Federation." He stopped moving and tapped his foot.

"Can I get a look at him?" McCoy spoke up. He nodded towards Quinn. "I'm a doctor and I want to make sure he's alright."

The Orion hummed. "He's only stunned, Doctor," he said. "He'll be coming around shortly." As he spoke some distant shouts underscored his words. Everyone turned to the door and watched as Scotty and Mannheim were dragged in. "Found them crammed up in some gears," an Orion grunted. They were quickly hoisted over and dumped in line with the others.

The Orion eyed them. Watching them closely, he pulled out a communicator. "Stable, Captain. Should I make contact now?"

A voice crackled through the speaker. _"Yes. Find some way to make your situation clear and without doubt to Kirk; the lack of visual is unfortunate."_

The Orion chuckled. "Indeed, it is. It's quite a picture, Captain. Niorol out." He put away his communicator, and narrowed his eyes at the prisoners. Bending down, he retrieved a confiscated communicator. "What is the frequency?"

The landing party remained silent.

The Orion grinned. "Ah, so not so dumb, I see." He shrugged. "Very well. You don't have to tell me. One of you will simply contact the _Enterprise_ for me."

Nobody moved. "I will," Spock said suddenly.

The Orion, Niorol, stepped forward, then stopped. "No," he said. "I don't trust you. Nobody volunteers to contact the base in a situation like this without some hidden agenda." His eyes tracked the row of officers, scrutinizing each man.

"You," he said, his eyes coming to rest on McCoy. "You're just a doctor." He shoved the communicator into McCoy's hands. "Contact the ship."

McCoy glared at him but glanced around. Niorol grinned. "Ah. Perhaps you need a little _persuasion_." He motioned and the Orion guard behind Spock pressed his phaser into the back of the Vulcan's head.

McCoy gulped and slowly opened the communicator. "_Enterprise?_"

A few moments later a reply crackled through. _"Bones, what is it? Is everything okay?"_

The doctor gave a nervous chuckle. "Well, can't wait to leave this place. Some of the crew's looking a little green if you know what I me-"

Niorol snatched the communicator away and kneed him in the ribs. McCoy double over as his breath left him and gasped. Niorol fiddled with the settings. "Are you there, Kirk?"

Tense seconds trickled by. _"Who is this?"_ Kirk demanded. _"What's happening to my crew?"_

Niorol glanced over his shoulder. "They're alright, Kirk. For now."

_"I'm not inclined to take your word on faith, mister," _came the sharp reply. _"Let me talk with Bones."_

Amused, Niorol passed the communicator back to McCoy. "Jim?"

_"Bones, what's the situation like over there?"_

"We are fine, for now that is. Quinn's unconscious from a phaser stun. We're outnumbered by Orions." Niorol took the communicator back.

"Satisfied, Captain?" he drawled.

_"Why are you doing this?"_

"You'll be getting a message shortly, Captain, which should explain everything. Keep us in mind while you're conversing, Kirk. I hold six insurance policies." He grinned. "If you know what I mean."

He snapped the communicator closed.

* * *

Aboard the _Enterprise_, the ship was on red alert. Sensors were scanning for any unidentified ships and shields were up in case of a surprise attack. Kirk was worried. The landing party was unreachable and being held hostage for unknown reasons. Reasons that seemed determined to remain unknown. He had Uhura sending out general hailing frequencies into the system, but no one had replied yet. He tapped his armchair, wondering how he could have let this happen.

"Uhura, stop transmitting. See if you can raise the landing party again," he ordered.

"Aye sir." She pressed the appropriate buttons on her panel, and froze. "Captain, I'm receiving a transmission."

"On screen."

The picture wavered, and then PSR was replaced with a dark bridge and smiling Orion. It flickered and buzzed, due to the interference.

"Captain Kirk," the Orion began cordially. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"I believe you have our roles reversed," Kirk said. "This is the Federation's 'neighborhood' and you are _not_ welcome."

"We're visiting," he replied coolly. "And won't be staying long. However, your presence seems to have complicated a few things."

"Yes," Kirk mused dangerously. "It's always a bad thing for the burglar to be caught in the house he's robbing by the owners."

"Captain, before you get out of hand in your threats I should remind you that I have six members of your crew hostage down on the planet. If you wish to see them returned, I suggest you pay attention."

Kirk swallowed a retort. "Go ahead," he said tightly.

The captain grinned. "Excellent. Now, this is how this is going to work. My men have some business to conduct on that drone. When they are finished, your crew will be released, and you will leave the system. You will also not report this manner to Starfleet. Does that sound simple enough?"

Kirk narrowed his eyes. It sounded _too_ simple. "What 'business' is going on with the drone?"

"Captain, you should know better than to ask about classified information," the Orion teased.

Kirk adopted the same light manner and smiled back. "You do realize that once we have our people back there is nothing to stop us from contacting Starfleet. Your presence will be eventually made known."

He didn't like the way the captain's smile grew wider. "I do not believe that will happen, Kirk," the Orion said softly. "Think on that."

The transmission ended.

"Uhura, trace that signal," he ordered. He punched a button on his chair. "Sickbay, what's the maximum endurance time for the landing party that close to PSR and Lucy?"

M'Benga's voice drifted through. _"The repair trip was estimated to last a safe 9 hours at most. Depending on the state of the drone's shielding they'll be good for 14 hours. After that the magnetic, radiation, and EM fields will start to wear rapidly on them. They could hold out for a couple hours longer if they wear the bio-suits."_

"Acknowledged." Kirk closed the link. "Any luck finding that ship?"

"I can only trace the signal halfway," Uhura reported, frustrated. "After that it dissolves into heavy interference. PSR."

"It is likely zhat zhey are hiding behind the pulsar, Keptin," Chekov said. "Otherwise our scans would show it. But directly behind all of zhat energy? It is a good blind spot."

"So we can't see him," Kirk muttered. "But that means he can't see us. He'll have to peek every now and then to keep tabs." He swiveled to the science station. "Keep the sensors focused _around_ PSR. If something abnormal pops up for a second or two I want to know about it."

"Yes, sir!" Gordon replied earnestly.

Kirk sat back in his seat, brow furrowed. "Uhura," he asked. "When did you receive that signal?"

"Right after I stopped broadcasting," she reported. "Then it suddenly popped up."

Kirk set his jaw. He didn't like the implications of that. Somebody who refused to answer the phone but preferred to make the call himself liked to be in control.

And right now, he seemed to be.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys! Thank you for the reviews! While I'm a bit undermotivated for this story, I do love how it's turning out. Glad to keep y'all in suspense!**

* * *

_The situation was delicate at best. He did not like the cards he had. And when facing down Kirk, it was best to have an ace up your sleeve._

_ He growled, drumming his fingers harshly against the side of his chair. For now, Kirk hadn't called his bluff. That much was good. The man was known for taking risks but luckily he held six cards that would keep those risks to a minimum. If he could get Kirk to fold he might actually win this. _

_ But then how long would the victory last?_

_ An engineer entered the bridge, silently crossing his arms. He felt the man's heated gaze and addressed him without turning around. "What is it, Hakran?"_

_ "There is no guarantee that Kirk won't call Starfleet once this is over," Hakran said bluntly. "In fact, he has every reason to do so, without legitimate fear of repercussions. Your plan might have us succeed for now, but not in the long run."_

_ He made no movement and softly clucked his tongue. "You have a propensity for bluntness, Hakran," he mentioned airily._

_ Hakran snorted. "I've said nothing that you don't already know. What _I_ want to know is how you expect to get us out of this mess, as well as keep this mission a success."_

_ Hakran's words cascaded over his ears. He barely heard them. Instead, he smiled as he saw the answer begin to unfold before him. Yes, that would work. Not only would it allow them to finish their work, but Starfleet would ask no more intrusive questions, send no more ships to the planet, and they would reap an enormous profit with the added benefit of unprecedented glory. Yes, it would solve everything. The only trick would be to get Kirk close enough._

_ He checked his timepiece. They had an hour. He sat back, his mind buzzing to lay out the plan._

_ If the game was one-sided from start to finish, there was one sure way for the loser to win._

_ Eliminate the opponent._

* * *

Spock observed the Orions work. From his position he could just see down the corridor to where three Orions were busy with the programming he and Quinn had just reached. Quinn, fortunately, had come to, and was kneeling next to them. He seemed alright, if a bit groggy.

From what he had seen on the programming before being wrenched away, Spock could estimate their plan. The directions for the flyers were being rewritten, that much was obvious. Likely, their new destination coordinates would be deep inside Orion space. Once production continued, all one had to do was sit back and earn a profit as tons and tons of diamond were delivered onto their doorstep.

He had to admire the simplicity of it.

Yet for some reason, the Orions had been unable to complete their task on the first trip. Now, they were back, and the crew was only unlucky enough to get in the way. He supposed that if the pirates had managed to complete their plan all in one go, Starfleet wouldn't have noticed until much later, when the new drones were to be shipped in. The abrupt stop in signaling could be contributed to interference, and it was easy for a few flyers to go missing from a swarm.

Instead, it had been days before the Orions could get back to resume their work and keep the drone signaling that all was well.

Never mind that, for now. Spock focused on their guards and the leader, Niorol. One-on-one combat was easy, the problem was that the Orions outnumbered them and were heavily armed.

Niorol was talking back into his communicator. Spock strained his hearing, grateful that he was a Vulcan, and tried to catch the distant conversation. The communicator suddenly snapped close and Niorol strode back to them.

"How's the situation?" he called gruffly down the corridor.

"Almost finished," someone called back. "It's a lot of code to write!"

Niorol nodded curtly, and walked formally before the hostages. Spock noticed the change in demeanor. He no longer seemed languid or cocky, but instead official and unamused.

_He has received news_, Spock deduced. _From a ship somewhere, is most likely. Either unfortunate news, or new orders._ Spock studied the man's gait, to try and see if he could figure out what this meant for them.

He needn't have looked so hard. The answer was apparent to everybody when he shot Mannheim.

* * *

Kirk paced back and forth across the bridge, brow furrowed, face tight. So far, their unknown friend had only made one 'peep'. Sensors registered an artificial object poke out from around PSR for only a couple seconds before vanishing. Unfortunately, due to the closeness of the distance between the ship and the pulsar (from their line of sight) they hadn't been able to determine anything useful. Kirk pounded the railing. He wanted to know exactly what they were up against.

They'd been unable to reestablish communications with the landing party. Whoever was in charge in the drone had neglected their calls. Kirk glared out at the screen, watching PSR swirl before them.

And the answer was there.

"Gases," Kirk murmured to himself. "Lucy." Growing excited, he moved to the front, right by the screen. "It's bright, and there are plenty of gases. Like clouds. Mr. Gordon," he said swiftly, facing the science station.

"Yes, sir?" Gordon snapped to attention.

"Do you see the gas shell that seems to be surrounding system?" Kirk confirmed. Gordon brought up overlaying sensor scans of PSR which illuminated the clouds on wavelengths invisible to the human eye.

"Yes sir," he said, unsure where the captain was going with this. "It's brought on by all the matter and particle emissions expanding from the pulsar. PSR's natural brightness illuminates them, making them somewhat visible. On the entire spectrum, we can 'see' a whole lot more. Some areas are quite dense-"

"Yes, lieutenant," Kirk interrupted. "I want you to focus scanners on the gases and look for a reflection. Also see if any of those clouds are interrupted in some way; I want to know his orbit. Bounce signals off of Lucy, if you have to, but I want to know what ship we're up against!"

"Yes, sir!" Gordon barked. He hesitated. "Sir, that will result in a large data load. Most of what we will receive will be noise and unnecessary information-"

"But we'll have what we need in that mess, so do it," Kirk snapped. "I don't like my orders questioned. Prepare a science team to sift through the data, but _get me that information_."

"Aye!" Gordon hurriedly started punching buttons.

Kirk prowled across the bridge back to his chair. "Message coming in," Uhura said suddenly. She turned to him, eyes wide. "It's from Lucy. Audio only."

"Play it," Kirk ordered, swiftly sitting in his chair.

The speaker crackled. _"I've just killed one of your men, Kirk."_

"Who?" Kirk demanded sharply. "Why?!"

There was an amused cackle. _"My men were bored. We are a bit overstocked for the occasion, and so not everyone is needed. We are all a bit restless."_

"Data coming in, sir," Gordon whispered from his station. "All sections of the science department are on it."

"Listen, I don't know where you get the idea that you can just pick off members of Starfleet for fun, but I can tell you personally that I will make you pay. Now _who was it?_"

The voice grew distant, and it seemed that the speaker was conferring with someone. "I am told his name was Henri Mannheim," returned the amused voice. "This doesn't change anything, Kirk. I still have five insurance cards." Pause. "But I thought you might like to know."

The transmission ended.

"_Damn!_" Kirk hissed. He again glared at the screen. Lucy was barely visible as a dark spot passing quickly in front of PSR. So beautiful. So bright.

So deadly.

"Mr. Chekov," Kirk asked. "How close to PSR would we be if we were at maximum beaming range for Lucy?"

The navigator consulted his chart. Chekov considered giving the exact distance, but knew that Kirk was asking about its effects. "We'd experience tricky turbulence, but the ship should be able to handle it vell. We cannot orbit Lucy; the best we could manage is to orbit PSR _with_ Lucy, at maximum beaming distance. However, zhat orbit vould require a constant starboard listing, because the grawity of PSR vill try to pull us in. We'll need to counterbalance." He glanced behind him. "There are also electromagnetic and radiation effects that come from being in such close quarters with a pulsar, and ve do not have the shielding zhat _Galileo_ does."

"Thank you," Kirk said. "Sickbay," he punched the comm.

"_M'Benga, here_."

"If we moved close enough to Lucy, just enough to beam people, what would the effects be on the crew?"

"_Not great. Radiation sickness will be pretty widespread; it will vary in speed and intensity depending on just how close we get. We'll also get a muck of other problems as the brain gets affected. Paranoia, feeling hot, vomiting, those are just some of the symptoms. And that's for radiation alone. We'll be in close proximity with a dozen other forces that humans shouldn't get close to."_

"Recommendation?"

"_I would advise against it unless it was _absolutely_ necessary. We just don't have the shielding."_

"Noted. Kirk out. Uhura?" he swiveled to face her. "How long do our scientists estimate until we get a picture from the reflective gases?"

"They're working with several screening computers, sir," she replied. "But it's a lot to comb through and cut and paste. They estimate they'll have the first rough idea of what's out there in roughly 30 minutes."

"Good. I want to see it as soon as they're done, and then every update." He swiveled back to face the system. He drummed his fingers, thinking. Clearly the Orion in charge down on the drone was unpredictable, and he didn't like what situation it put the landing party in. One dead. Five more. An unknown ship lurking behind the star. He was told to do nothing until some 'business' was finished on the drone. What business? And once it was finished, who was to say they might not kill any possible witnesses?

Kirk hated waiting. He preferred action, _doing_ something. And he had five men down on Lucy.

"Lt. Riley," he said. "Move us in just a little bit closer."

"Aye, sir."

* * *

McCoy was brimming with fury, but kept it in check. They had been threatened enough during their shouts after Mannheim was inexplicably killed. With a disruptor, too. That meant he wasn't vaporized. That meant there was a corpse lying between Spock and Scotty. Just lying there, bleeding and burnt.

He shook his head, trying to focus. No, dammit, there was nothing he could do, not with a dead man. So he continued with what he was doing earlier. See, Spock wasn't the only one watching the Orions. McCoy was, too. And he believed he was onto something.

Instead of studying the Orions' work or behavior, McCoy studied _them._ He noticed the light beads of sweat donning the guards' foreheads. One was leaning on his gun, trying to pass it off as nonchalance and boredom, but he could see how much weight it was taking. Peering down at those working in the corridor, he could also see a stiffness in their movements. They were sitting down, too, and seemed reluctant to get up. Spying on Niorol, he noticed that the Orion gradually stopped pacing, and even standing. He reclined on the shuttle, breathing a little fast and looking paler.

They were getting sick.

McCoy quickly pieced things together. What kind of shielding did their ship have, if any? What if, what if Orions weren't as resilient against EM fields as humans were?

They were weakening.

This could be the opening they needed, McCoy realized. He checked the time surreptitiously. They still had several hours before they would begin to decline, he determined. They would be able to hold out that long. But the Orions had only recently arrived, and were fading fast, at least, compared to a human. They could use this to their advantage.

McCoy glanced around, trying to figure out how to tell somebody this. Sulu was on his right, still looking out across the hold. Spock was on his left. Spock! That would probably work.

McCoy glanced back at the guards. They weren't directly looking at their captives. Moving slowly, McCoy extended his arm slightly and lightly touched Spock's wrist.

Spock, as a touch-telepath, instantly picked up on the contact and unexpected force of thoughts.

_Spock, they're dying._

McCoy watched Spock look around, studying the Orions in a new light. He kept his hand there, thinking of his estimation. The Orions had an hour or two at most before they became useless.

_Indeed_, came a hazy thought. McCoy saw Spock looking at him like he had looked at the Yang girl.* _This is good for us._

McCoy nodded slightly, and removed his hand.

* * *

_ Good._

_ He watched the _Enterprise_ move closer into the system. It wasn't close enough, but it was a start. He grinned. He could ensure the remaining distance. Their ships didn't have to get close enough to each other. In fact, he preferred that they not meet. He knew when he was outgunned._

_ But the biggest threat on the field stood between them, and that was the heart of his plan. He watched as the pulsar spun fiercely and strongly, capable of warping gravity itself._

_ Against it, no ship could escape its pull._

* * *

***The Yang girl is from The Omega Glory, where Spock communicates telepathically without a mind meld.**

**Okay, guys, now for the bad news. Ash Wednesday is coming up and I'm giving up fan fiction for Lent. I'll try and keep writing/posting this story to its end, for those of you following it, because I know that not everyone celebrates Lent and it would be unfair to y'all to not update for 40 days because of something you might not even participate in. In deference of that, I'll continue to post chapters on this story until it finishes, but I won't start any new stories, read, review, reply, or even look at fan fiction until Easter.**

**This might kill me.**

**See you at Easter!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I'm back! Briefly. Not to stay. Unfortunately, this is the final chapter of 'Diamond in the Rough' and so I will be going completely dark until Easter. MAN, this is hard! It's been a week and already I've found notifications on my e-mail of updates on the stories I'm following but I CAN'T READ THEM. AHHHHHH!**

**Anyway, my motivation for this story was fading fast, so I feel iffy about this chapter. This was excellent foresight on my part. Deny myself the inspiration to write this kind of material for 40 days. At least it's up! You may read this and review, but I won't see your reviews until Easter. Enjoy!**

* * *

Niorol waited impatiently for them to finish. How long did it take someone to fix a program anyway? Granted, it was an unfamiliar system. There were a lot of Terran configurations to decipher. But weren't numbers universal?

Apparently not.

He looked back across the row of prisoners, the dead one still part of it. They were all silent, their eyes tracking the circumstances. He did not like watchful eyes. Should he kill another one for it? He debated it, but decided he was too tired.

That was another problem. Their maximum time limit was approaching fast. Niorol hoped the captain was finding some way to take care of the _Enterprise_. When he'd called in ordering Niorol to do something to lure the ship closer he had hoped this meant the captain had a plan. The question was: would the plan work in time?

Someone tapped him on his shoulder, startling him out of his daze. It was one of the techs. "We're done," he whispered. "The flying machines are set to deliver their load of diamond into the Orion Empire and the drilling machines have been set in accordance with that."

The news was fantastic. It was just what Niorol wanted to hear. "Excellent," he grinned. He pulled out his communicator and signaled their ship. "Captain?"

The cool, familiar voice crackled through. "_Yes?_"

"We've completed the changes. What should we do now?"

There was a wait, and then _"Stay with the hostages for a while more."_

Niorol blinked. This was unexpected. "Why?"

_"The _ Enterprise_ isn't close enough."_

He chewed his lip, uneasiness sinking into his stomach. "Sir, we're reaching the end of our duration, here. Much longer and we won't be good for anything, much less keeping prisoners. Do you remember how long the last infiltration was? 45 minutes shorter, and it kept half of the teams unconscious for days. The environment is working against us."

A burst of angry static broke through. _"You can kill your prisoners, if you want. Not all at once, though. Maybe do it while contacting Kirk. I need him closer. He's moved in, but still holds back."_

Niorol frowned, feeling desperate to get off the drone. He swallowed it and still replied. "Understood, Captain. Will comply."

* * *

"Data coming in," Uhura reported. "First results from the science teams. The other ship has a multi-purpose configuration. It would suggest that it's a mother-ship of some sort. The orbit is similar to ours, only farther out and stays behind PSR, to our line of sight, that is. That's all so far."

Kirk savored every word. "A mother-ship," he mused. "It could explain how they're in orbit yet still have people on our drone. One of their raiders must have flown down." He turned quickly. "Chekov, what is the average crew on a raider?"

"Normally about ten people," the navigator replied. "Anymore would have to squeeze in there."

"So they've got 2:1 odds," Kirk murmured. "But the Orions are armed." He growled, thinking. He glanced at the screen. "Move us in just a little bit closer, Riley. Keep a safety factor, though."

Kirk watched as PSR grew larger on the screen. He pursed his lips. He knew he wasn't really helping the situation down on Lucy.

But at least moving felt like he was doing something.

* * *

Spock was the only member of the crew who could hear Niorol's conversation.

Not only did it confirm McCoy's observations, but it showed that they needed to act _now_.

Spock looked over and managed to catch McCoy's gaze. He gave a slight nod. The doctor's eyes widened, but he nodded back. Spock then turned to Scotty, while McCoy nudged Sulu. Everyone tensed as Niorol snapped the communicator shut and strode over to them.

He had a remarkable pretense. But one could see the slight drag of the Orion's feet.

Now.

In one motion, Spock leapt up and pulled his guard in front of him as a shield- a good thing as Niorol immediately reacted with his phaser. The guard screamed and Sulu, light on his feet, tackled Niorol.

Scotty and Quinn both bulldozed their guards while McCoy spun to knock the legs out from under his and Sulu's. Spock quickly nerve-pinched any green necks within reach. When disruptor shots sailed over his head, he knew the other Orions had caught on to the uprising.

Sulu, meanwhile, was deep in hand to hand combat with Niorol. He had managed to knock the phaser away, but the green man was feisty. When the helmsman had him in a headlock, the Orion bit his arm. Sulu grimaced and rammed his knee into Niorol's gut, causing him to grunt. He loosened his grip and used one of his hands to chop the back of the first mate's neck. Niorol slumped forward, falling heavily to the floor when Sulu dropped him.

There was a tremendous clash. He looked up and saw that Scotty and Quinn had managed to tumble a heavy piece of machinery towards the reinforcements. The Orions went down like green bowling pins. He saw Spock and McCoy leaving a collection of unconscious green bodies. No pirate was left standing.

"We need to get out of here," Quinn said immediately, eyes wide. He nervously glanced over at Mannheim, only to look away.

"Agreed," Spock said. "But I must fix the sabotage before we leave."

McCoy grabbed his arm. "What about them? Are we just going to leave them there?"

"Is there anything else we can do?" Spock asked impartially.

"We can't just leave them!" McCoy angrily protested. "They'll die! They're already dying!" At the others' shocked looks he retorted. "Didn't you wonder how it was so easy to take them out? They've been weakening steadily since they boarded. Orions are more susceptible to electromagnetic fields." He glared at Spock. "Leaving them like this is a death sentence!"

"If you wish to move them, Doctor, you may pile them onto their own spacecraft. But we cannot take them onto our shuttle." Spock silenced McCoy's protest and walked down the corridor. Bending, he swiftly entered the core programming, which was never resealed. Yes, an ingenious plan. Correcting the alterations took only a few minutes, as Spock was already an expert with Federation computers. He quickly crossed back to the hold, and found nearly a dozen green bodies piled in the short accessway.

"Doctor?" he inquired.

McCoy had apparently recruited (or guilted) the other crewmembers into helping. He looked at Spock. "We can't just leave them like this."

"Yes, Doctor, we can. When they wake up they may walk the rest of the distance to their ship and leave." He shouldered through to the hold.

"You don't understand, Spock. They might _not_ wake up."

Spock repressed the urge to sigh. "Doctor. We must leave. Now." He turned and called to the others. "We lift off in five minutes!"

There was a scramble. Scotty and Quinn rushed to pack in what tools they could salvage. Sulu jumped in the pilot's seat and started powering up the shuttle. Spock climbed in next to him, but first placed Mannheim's corpse in the back. McCoy rushed in at the last second, literally falling into his seat. His medkit opened and Spock noticed a few empty hypos. Of course he would.

"Hold depressurizing," Sulu reported. "Bay doors opening." Silently, he was glad that they had left no Orions in the hold. "Here we go!"

_Galileo_ raced out. Instantly the strong forces bouncing between Lucy and PSR flung the tiny shuttle about. Sulu gritted his teeth and bade it go faster. They had to fly towards the _Enterprise_.

He was right, earlier. The solar emissions from PSR gave them a strong push, flicking them away from Lucy and tumbling into the black. Sulu stabilized their position, still exhilarated from the fast rush of circumstances. In somewhat calmer waters, he turned around.

"Did anyone call the captain?"

* * *

Kirk paced back and forth across the bridge. As more data about the mother-ship's orbit came in, they were able to track its path. He'd ordered a photon torpedo specially prepared to track the path. Eventually it had to hit something.

Until it was ready, he worried about those on Lucy. Right now, they were on the brink of PSR's pull. Any closer and they risked not escaping. Not in their kind of ship.

But he couldn't leave Spock there. Or McCoy. Or Scotty and Sulu. Anyone. They were his crew, his friends. Weren't they worth the risk?

"Riley," he said quietly. Riley turned, waiting for his orders. Kirk drew in a long breath. "Take us to Lucy."

"Aye sir," Riley said softly.

"Captain!" Uhura cried. "I'm getting a message from our people!" She already had it playing before Kirk could say anything.

_"… -ileo. Commander Spock reporting. We are alright and in route to the _Enterprise. _Come in, _Enterprise._ Repeat, we are alright and have left Lucy-"_

"Belay previous order, Riley, turn us around!" Kirk shouted.

They could all feel it as the ship spun. The saucer turned away from PSR, but the back nacelles still listed towards its tantalizing pull. For long, tense seconds the ship hung suspended like that. Riley gritted his teeth and fired all thrusters. A wrenching, grinding sound shattered the bridge and the _Enterprise_ kicked away from PSR, shooting back towards the black.

"Trace the signal, Uhura," Kirk ordered. "We have some saved souls to pick up."

* * *

_He watched as the _Enterprise_ began to close the remaining distance. The grin was poised on his face, and his eyes were ready to watch the magnificent starship get sucked into the ethereal, flaming pulsar._

_ But it turned away._

_ Something was wrong. This wasn't a last-minute decision. Something had called her away._

_ He reached for the communications console. "Niorol, come in." _

_ Static answered him._

_ "Niorol, report," he ordered. He waited for a reply from his first mate, but none came. Glancing at the clock, he cursed. Time. Time had been his constant enemy. He waited too long, and now Niorol and his team had grown too weak to contain their captives._

_ He looked at the ship's overextended sensors. There was a tiny blip next to the _Enterprise._ No doubt it was the shuttle. That must have been what called her away. He had lost his insurance cards._

_ Yet now another thing registered. It was the smallest of all, but it left the starship and disappeared around the pulsar. It popped up later on the sensors, much closer._

_ He looked up. "No," he whispered._

* * *

McCoy, Spock, and Sulu instantly ran to the bridge when they saw that the ship was on yellow alert. Scotty and Quinn left them from the shuttle bay to head to Engineering. The three men burst onto the bridge in time to catch Kirk's order.

"Fire that photon torpedo."

Spock could guess the situation. There had to be a main ship somewhere. If caught unawares, a torpedo would be highly effective.

"What's out there?" McCoy asked.

"An Orion mother-ship," Kirk answered. "Glad to see you're okay. We've got to get rid of this devious threat-maker."

McCoy's eyes widened. "Just like that? You haven't tried negotiating?"

"He wasn't interested in negotiating," Kirk said curtly. "He must be stopped."

McCoy seemed ready to protest again, and Spock suddenly realized why. If any of their Orion captives survived- either waking up on their own or from McCoy's stimulants- they wouldn't have a home ship to go back to. No medical facilities. No treatment.

Just death.

"Doctor, it must be done," Kirk said, hardening his tone. "And you probably know why better than I do."

McCoy furrowed his brow, but closed his mouth. "Your word goes, Captain," he said quietly.

An image started blinking from the science console's screen. Spock, having assumed his natural position there, reported it. "Debris from around PSR," he said.

"Direct hit."

* * *

One day later, the _Enterprise_ trudged back to the starbase. The _Galileo_ had been stripped of its reinforcements, and all parts were ready to be returned. Going with them was Mannheim's body in stasis, ready to be received by his family back on Earth. Despite completing their mission and blasting Orions from Federation space, a glum mood permeated the ship.

"Makes you wonder why they would try something like that," Kirk commented to McCoy over a drink. "While a great idea in theory, they had to know that the moment the flyers from drone K-19 stopped reporting in Starfleet would investigate. There was no way such a plan could have lasted."

"Perhaps," McCoy replied. He rubbed his arms. "But it still doesn't sit well with me; leaving people to die like that."

Kirk wanted to say 'you don't know that'. He wanted to say 'they probably flew back in their raider, if not the mother-ship'. But he knew the odds were stacked highly against that. And he knew that McCoy, as a doctor, could not be alright with such an act.

He opened his mouth to say _something_, but the doctor cut him off. "I'm okay, Jim. It's part of being in Starfleet. Sometimes, you just have to face situations like that. Fine. Doesn't make them any less shitty, but I'll deal with it."

Kirk gave a tight smile. He raised his glass. "It's what we all have to deal with, Bones."

They both drank silently.

* * *

**I know, not exactly a joyful ending. But that's one of the things I like about Star Trek. Take 'Balance of Terror' for example. Instead of focusing, at the end, on how they defeated the bad guy Romulans, it ended with you thinking about the loss of the boy who was going to get married. I feel that it got a little Stockholm Syndrome-y in parts, but I want it to be where you wonder 'could there have been another way?' Death is rarely a right answer.**

**Well, see you guys later. Bye, bye!**


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